Until All Are One
by Ripplingstorm
Summary: Optimus Prime and his Autobots are in a period of peace, and have been for seven years. In the aftermath of the battle that destroyed Chicago, the remaining Decepticons fled to every corner of the Earth. Autobots are making planet fall every month. It's time to take to the stars again, this time in search of the last of their kind. Set in TF Prime and the movies until DOTM.
1. Optimus Prime

**A/N:** Hello! This is my first attempt at writing a Transfomers fanfiction, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes in the story. If any are found, please let me know.

A little background information: As hinted in the summary, this story is set mainly in the Transformer Prime and the Transformer movie universes. There may be some elements from other TF universes also. Also, please pretend Starscream didn't die in Dark of the Moon.

I realize that the point of view from various characters (in future chapters) may make them seem slightly OOC. If you find that is the case, I am open to suggestions for improvement.

Just another note: I am not terribly well versed with the entire Transformers franchise; all that I know is from the movies, TF Prime, TF Animated, and information I've gleaned from other fanfictions. Any alerts pointing out errors will be appreciated. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers in any way, shape or form, but in my mind, Ratchet and I have snark wars.

* * *

I almost forgot the time increments. Here it is:

astrosecond: 1 second

breem: 8.3 minutes

joor: 6.5 hours

orn: 6 days

vorn: 83 years

(note: these are all approximations calculated comparing Cybertronian and Earth time)

* * *

Optimus Prime sat at his desk, debating whether or not to call Prowl in to discuss a recent idea of his. His pedes were stretched out under the desk, his servos folded together, placed under his head.

It was very early in the morning, as the sun was still rising. Normally, he would go out to watch the sunrise, enjoying the gradual warming of his armour as the sunlight washed ever it. Not today though. This idea of his, this plan, if you will, called for his undivided attention and concentration. If Prowl agreed, then they would have much planning to do. It was going to impact the entire Autobot force, after all. Come to think of it, the humans' government would also have to be informed. All the necessary paperwork invented on the spot to accommodate his plan while following the many rules and regulations would have to be filled out. That would take quite a while, especially since the humans seemed to fiercely enjoy debating over such things very much.

After minutes of debating with himself, he decided to summon Prowl. Optimus knew him to be up already, so really, it was best to call him now than later, lest he rush here in the middle of sorting out a complaint filed by the bots or human or something of the like. As it was early morning and the vast majority of the Autobot force had yet to awake from recharge, Prowl should not be terribly busy. He most likely just arrived at his office.

Optimus raised a servo to his audio dials. He hailed his SIC through a private comm. link frequency.

_:Prime to Prowl.:_

_:Optimus Prime, sir. What is it that you request of me?:_

Optimus really wished that Prowl would, for the lack of a better term, loosen up. He was as stiff as a board, as the human saying went.

_:Good morning, Prowl. I simply ask that you come down to my office at this moment, providing you are able to do so. I have matters of great importance to discuss with you.:_

_:Yes sir. I am on my way.:_

_:Very well. Optimus Prime out:_

Optimus picked up the datapad on which he had stored the general outline for his idea. It wasn't much, but there would be no point in detailing such a plan if it had not been approved. Though he was the Prime, he still required the insight and advice of his Second in Command. Prowl wasn't the Head Tactician for nothing, after all.

As he went over what he had written the day before, his resonance scanner alerted him of Prowl's approach. His office doors were open, as they were nearly every day. His audios didn't catch the sound of Prowl stepping into his office though. Perhaps that was due to his natural silent grace and the fact that Prowl was a master of circuit-su.

"Sir, for what reason did you call me here?"

Optimus looked up, and waved a servo at the chairs across from his desk. "Please, Prowl, take a seat. This matter is not something that will take only a breem or two."

Prowl sat, and Optimus could almost see his battle computer running all the possibilities concerning what issue he could possibly have been called for that would take much time to discuss. Since the SIC was still struggling to adapt to peacetime, and Optimus preferred that Prowl did not land himself in the medbay due to his circuits frying, he spoke.

"Prowl, have you had the time to read the datapad I gave to you yesterday?"

He could see the tactician's whirring battle computer came to a halt as he realized what the topic of discussion was to be.

"I have read it, sir. Though I must say, I do not approve of such a mission. It is a great risk; the time frame for such a mission is unacceptable. If you would like to go, then you must shorten the time for which you'll be away. I am capable of stepping in as Commander in your absence, but there is a calculated 79% chance the Autobots will not know what to do with themselves in your long absence. This could cause base wide panic and lead to fights between mechs. Though the Decepticons may be disbanded and on the run, this does not mean we are free of danger. We have a number of accidents resulting in the bodily harm of bots every day, which astounds me even now. And if you wish to take Ratchet with you, then how do you think First Aid will cope with all that will go on in the medbay without Ratchet?"

Prowl was no longer the picture of calmness that he usually was. He sounded very aggravated. Optimus understood though, seeing as he had to deal with all those things on a daily basis. Hourly, even, and more so than Prowl, who locked himself away with his reports to save himself from the insanity. It was Optimus all bots went to for even the littlest of things. Optimus marvelled at the fact that his processor was still functioning at 100 percent after eons of going through such things. Prowl, on the other hand, was the commanding officer on Cybertron, and dealt with Shockwave from the time Optimus left until he himself left for Earth. And considering the circumstances on Cybertron, Optimus doubted the Autobots under Prowl's command had much time or will to fool around. They were all too worn out from the constant battles they waged against Shockwave's armies of drones. There was no time or energy for the bots to blow themselves up daily, or get into vicious fights with each other.

His own team sometimes also bickered over little things, especially between Ironhide, Jazz, and Ratchet, even though they didn't get much in terms of breaks from the raging war, however seemingly peaceful this planet was. Still, Optimus was much more familiar with these types of situations and had come to learn to handle them well. He knew the dos and don'ts of dealing with everyday problems extremely well. A prime example would be Wheeljack blowing up Perceptor's lab. It's happened more than a few times in the past few years. And since Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had arrived on Earth, his expertise on this matter only grew. Prowl only familiarized himself with the Twins' antics once again, as he had in the early days of the war. They ended up in the brig quite often, and for longer periods of time every time. It was something to see; the sight of Prowl punishing the Twins was rather amusing.

Coming to Earth was an enormous change for Prowl. Earth was so … peaceful, especially in comparison to the almost constant bombardment of artillery, cries, and deaths. Peaceful outside the base, that is. Sort of. Inside of the base was, to be blunt, quite hectic and overall, a drastic change in environment for his poor SIC. Four years and Prowl still seemed to be struggling to adapt. Of course, that might be due to the constant harassment of Jazz and the Twins. It was a wonder his circuits haven't yet short-circuited, considering all that he had to deal with everyday. Optimus decided to order Prowl on a long vacation and send Jazz to keep an eye on him. Smokescreen could take over the Head Tactician's work and Ultra Magnus could step in as SIC. Ironhide would temporarily fill the spot of TIC for Jazz. Speaking of Jazz –

"Sir? I apologize if I stepped out of line. I merely wished to express my concerns regarding this absurd proposal."

Optimus resisted the urge to sigh and "roll his optics" in a very out of character and "un-Prime-like" way. Even he, a Prime, he who possessed endless patience, wisdom and understanding, was quite exasperated with Prowl.

"No. I was merely taking into consideration which of the bots will be able to come with me. As you understand, these bots must be selected with the utmost care and forethought." He paused for an astrosecond. "You are correct, Prowl. I am aware of the many complications that will no doubt rise due to my extended absence, but I am sure you and Ultra Magnus are more than capable, are you not?"

"Of course, Sir. You do not need to worry about coming back to a nonexistent base and your soldiers scattered to the winds, but I do not think I have to remind you that some bots are rather… reluctant to obey to authority figures beside yourself. That is, _if_ you are going at all. As of now, it is simply a proposal, and the ground works have yet to be laid. Although I detest being redundant, I must stress again how vital you are to the Autobots and the safety of the mechs. With you gone from base, the Deceticons may become bolder and launch an attack in your absence. This is not a possibility that can be ruled out nor can it be overlooked."

Optimus vented lightly, nearly shaking his helm at Prowl's unnecessary negativity. "Yes, yes. I understand the large impacts of my absence and that of several other bots, but I assure you, I have confidence that I will not arrive back on Earth to find my Autobots inhabiting every corner of the Earth, nor a destroyed base. I have confidence in your ability to lead them all as well as handle any hostile contacts efficiently and sensibly. And… well, every bot knows that you "run a tight ship", as the humans say. I am also quite confident that you will assist however you can in planning the entirety of this mission. How does that sound?"

Prowl was silent for a moment, optics cast downward in slight embarrassment. "I… I will begin planning as soon as possible, sir. I apologize for my presumptuous assumptions."

"No need to apologize. Do you have much work now?"

"No, I merely have seven reports to file as of now. If no other incidents take place during the day, I should be able to spare half a joor to assist in planning this mission. On another note, are you planning to announce this mission to the Autobots soon?"

Optimus shook his helm. "I believe that I will announce this mission shortly after we have finished with the planning phase. I do, however, plan to speak with commanding officers and select bots just prior to that." Optimus paused, and upon seeing Prowl's inquiring expression, he explained further. "I speculate that there are a few mechs who will no doubt insist on accompanying me. Ironhide, for one, and Ratchet as well. I also require one who has experience flying a large ship such as the _Ark_, and the only mechs on base to have done so are Jazz and Sideswipe. Should Sideswipe come with, then Sunstreaker will follow without a doubt. It is also pragmatic to…"

"To have one or two fliers accompany you as well."

Optimus nodded. Prowl's processor was still as sharp as it was a thousand vorns ago. "Precisely."

"I assume you will have the commanding officers inform their respective division, correct?"

"That is correct. That is all that I have planned concerning the mission release. Do you have any objections?"

"No, sir, though I do have a concern regarding military chain of command."

"Continue."

"I know that I am not the most liked by the Autobots, and I am simply taking into consideration that they will feel that I hold little power over them despite my rank. As you know, I have experienced incidents in which mechs have blatantly and directly disobeyed an order from me, and I have to say, I am not very excited to deal with such situations again."

"Do not worry, Prowl. I will ensure that all orders are obeyed in my absence. If not, then you have my permission to think of creative punishments within reason. I trust that you clearly understand the parameters of reason. If you like and if necessary, you may even incorporate human punishments. Will that be sufficient?"

Prowl didn't outwardly show his relief, but Optimus could see it in his optics. "Yes, thank you. Now, if I may return to my office to gather a number of things, we can begin planning this mission."

A nod from Optimus and Prowl was swiftly exiting his office. Optimus sighed. He really wished his SIC would cease calling him "Sir" and call him "Optimus" or even "Prime" as Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, and a number of others did, but thus far, he still haven't managed such a thing. Countless vorns of service serving under Optimus, from when Prowl was merely a low ranking intelligence officer to his current position, and he still insisted addressing Optimus as "Sir" no matter what the circumstances were. It was border lining ridiculous, really. Optimus cared for his officers' and soldiers' safety and wellbeing. They cared right back. The relationships between himself and the Autobots weren't so much Commander and Subordinate, but much more sibling and parental for some. Even Mirage had reluctantly admitted the close relationship they shared, though not in so many words. Prowl, however, was in a category by himself. He was so by-the-book that Optimus constantly sighed and distressed about it, especially since they were no longer at war. Even Ultra Magnus called him Optimus on occasions! Prowl was considered a lost cause regarding this matter, even though Optimus had even enlisted the help of Jazz. The saboteur had no luck as well. If even Jazz's pestering couldn't get the Tactician to change his ways, then he really had nothing left.

As long as Prowl was aware that he was a part of Optimus's "family", then being addressed as "Sir" was fine. That brought him to another though. Perhaps he should somehow subtly show…. No. Gift giving wouldn't work. Prowl's battle computer would analyze the measure of appreciation to death even after he figured out the purpose of said possible gift or such. Perhaps in a case such as this, saying it outright was the best solution. Yes, that would possibly work.

"Sir? I have retrieved several datapads from my office. Shall we begin now?"

Optimus was jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of Prowl's voice. He was already back? Then again, Prowl's office was quite close to his own. Ah. He really needed to get his processor into gear and focus on the task at hand. Planning this mission.

"Of course, Prowl. Let us begin now. We should begin with the time and date of departure, then move on to weaponry and energon supplies. Following, we can work on clearing the _Ark_, launching it, and beginning a maintenance check."

He waited for Prowl's agreement. "That is fine."

Optimus smiled and retracted his battle mask. Although Prowl was the Tactician and the best at his job, Optimus still had millennia of experience and training in all aspects of warfare. Tactics was, of course, included.

Prowl seemed slightly surprised when Optimus allowed the entirety of his faceplates to show, but busied himself with laying out his datapads in a mechanical manner. Three astroseconds later, Optimus's desk was occupied by ten datapads spread out across the length, all placed an equal distance from each other and all blinking, signalling that they were empty. He was such a perfectionist. Optimus believed that the humans have a term for tendencies such as ones Prowl only seconds ago displayed. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, was it? A quick search across the Worldwide Web confirmed his suspicions. Prowl had what the humans called OCD. Though he probably best not let that slip. He imagine that Prowl would be much less than pleased should he find out, and downright furious if the entire base were to become aware of such a fact.

Prowl immediately started entering a subject into each datapad, titling the first "Recon Mission in Deep Space: Departure Date and Time". The others followed in a similar manner, and were titled things such as "Weaponry and Artillery", "Energon Supplies", "Maintenance", "Goals and Time Frame", and so on.

Optimus picked up the datapad titled "Departure Date and Time" and began writing while speaking.

"I wish to leave as soon as possible, though I am aware that some time must be allowed for bots to gather themselves and prepare for departure. We must take into consideration the amount of time it will take for Wheeljack and Perceptor to run a full maintenance check on the _Ark_. If there is nothing to be fixed, then we may leave shortly after. However, I have no doubt that Wheeljack will want to make a number of adjustments to improve a variety of functions, so we must plan for such things."

"If I may, I suggest that you speak with the commanding officers immediately after we finish the planning process. Following that, give the Aerialbots two to three joors to decide, then set a deadline for submissions for the rest of the Autobots. At that time, we should be able to launch the _Ark_ into orbit and Wheeljack may begin maintenance checks. This seems to be the most logical, as it will save time and allow you to ensure that everything is well taken care of."

"Of course. I would also like to begin gradually moving the majority of base activities from the _Ark_ to the finished base soon, as well as personal possessions as soon as the construction on living quarters is completed. On another note, in how long, do you think, it will take us to finish planning everything? An orn, perhaps?"

"No, it would take at least two orns to make sure that all angles and possibilities have been covered. After that, we can finalize the mission plan."

"Excellent. Prowl, forgive me for inquiring about such a sensitive subject, but I must ask. Should Jazz be chosen to go, will you be in agreement with this?"

Prowl hesitated, servos hovering above a datapad. "I am fine with that. Jazz and I are quite close, though by no means bonded. I can handle one to two human years easily. After all, we all survived these past vorns, have we not?"

"Not all of us have survived, but yes, many of us have spent far too long apart from their bonded and lovers. I am simply concerned for your wellbeing, old friend. I know that Jazz would not agree to go if he didn't think you would be alright without him. Prowl, you must tell me if you are against this."

Optimus knew he walking along a delicately blurred line when he asked that, but his SIC and TIC had become especially close since… since Prowl found out that Jazz had joined with the Allspark after Mission City. It had been only seven years since then, and in Cybertronian time increments, seven human years represented a pitifully miniscule portion of a Cybertronian's life. Their kind was nigh immortal, after all. That aside, wounds taken to the spark can take vorns to heal. And with bots such as Prowl, who did not handle emotion as well as some, vorns may stretch longer. Though this was a sensitive topic, it was necessary to ask, lest it lead to something far worse.

Prowl vented lightly. "Optimus, I assure you, I am fine. Do not worry about me." He looked down at his servos. "Now, shall we continue?"

Optimus smiled. Prowl had called him by his name. Perhaps his efforts were not all wasted after all. "Of course."

* * *

**Another A/N: **I hope that was to your liking. If you have time, then please write a few words in a review. I draw inspiration and ideas from you guys.


	2. Prowl

**A/N:** Here is chapter two. This one is from Prowl's point of view. As this is my first time writing Prowl's p.o.v, I have concerns about this chapter being written a bit OOC. Feedback is appreciated!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Prowl, Jazz, Optimus, Smokescreen, the Twins, Ratchet, Teletrann-1, and any other ideas that belong Transformers franchise.

* * *

Prowl sighed in mildly constrained annoyance as red, beeping alerts scrolled across his vision for the third time that night. He attempted to override them for, again, the third time that night, only this time, his vision insistently stayed crammed full of red alerts and warnings. Repeating the override code and even attempting to manually shut down certain unneeded functions when the code failed, he almost hissed with frustration when nothing seemed to work.

In the end, he disabled his internal locating system and manually transferred control to his battle computer to conserve the energy that he didn't have and couldn't afford to lose. Prowl also disabled his chronometer, though not before checking the current time. The time it reported was slightly startling, though not entirely surprising. Assuming his internal chronometer was functioning properly, it was now 5:02 in the morning. The other Autobots would be up soon. Best quickly finish up and find a way to get through the day as soon as possible.

He knew that he could solve his problem by getting up and out of his office to get some energon or recharge for even a joor, but really, that would cut into his work and would, with a calculated 64.57% chance (based on information gathered from previous situations), cause him to fall behind. That result was completely unacceptable. Besides, Prowl could not simply just abandon his station while he was in the middle of something very important.

Seeing no other suitable option, Prowl decided to ignore the flashing red print partly interfering with the proper and uninhibited functioning of his optics and continue reviewing reports. Apparently, the transfer of energon from the _Ark_ to Autobot Outpost Alpha-1 was progressing rather well. Nearly a third of their original supply from the _Ark_ had been relocated to the Earth base, and Ironhide had already begun to split the weaponry and artillery between the ship and the base. Prowl made a mental note to ask the Weapons Specialist to split the weapons evenly between the two places. Deeming the current progress rate acceptable, he moved on to writing a report for Prime on the planning progress. Prowl was nearly halfway finished with the report when a tap on his doors startled him, which lead him to wonder who could already be up at this hour. He warily admitted entrance into his office, too tired to even bother scanning for spark signatures. Besides, the Twins being an exception, who would have ill intention towards the SIC?

The famed tactician's helm almost hit his desk with a resounding bang of metal on metal in a rare display of loss of control the moment his optics caught sight of a small, lithe and agile silver frame slip through the door. He caught himself just in time and instead shuttered his optics in an attempt to look alert in front of the ever observative saboteur, to try, yet again, to blink away the red warnings, in disbelief that Jazz was up at this hour and self-disgust at the fact that he was not able to guess the identity of his unexpected guest.

Of course, Jazz, being the creature that he was, noticed all these things immediately, including the fact that his partner currently looked very depleted of both energy and recharge and was attempting to hide such a fact in vain. He also noticed how Prowl appeared to be writing something of great importance, and that the datapads in front of him potentially contained information considered off-limits to the talented saboteur. That only made the idea of hacking into the datapads all the more appealing. Just because Jazz was an Autobot didn't mean he couldn't have his bit of harmless fun. He also needed to, of course, stay sharp and this could only be accomplished through regular practice on his fellow Autobots now that most the Decepticons were rotting in the Pit. Or so he hoped with a vicious streak of contempt.

Prowl noticed Jazz noticing, and decided to break whatever train of thought was racing through Jazz's processor before he could formulate some sort of plan to hack the datapads. Though, seeing as this was _Jazz_, a plan had probably already been brought into existence.

"Ja – a – azz, -kkkkshkk-" Prowl had to reset his vocalizer to clear the static that had built up in his voice due to lack of use before continuing. "Jazz, what are you doing here so early? You know I have much work to get done."

"Aww, Prowler, ya hurt mah spark. Can't Ah just come see ya just cuz? And ya should be happy Ah didn't break yer code and bust in here to drag yer sorry aft off yer chair and outta yer office."

Prowl's answer was curt, his patience having worn out joors ago. "No, you may not. You only serve as a distraction to me and right now, I cannot afford any deviations of attention from my current tasks. Such occurrences will cause me to fall behind in my work, yet another reason. You know this. I am quite pleased that you saw fit to leave my coded lock as is, though I not pleased in the slightest about your disruption."

"Do Ah really know?" Jazz, upon seeing Prowl's cold glare, immediately saw fit to change his tone. "Sorry, Prowler. Ah was kidding. Ah came to see how yer holding up."

"Fine. I am fine. Though, I guarantee you that I will feel more than marginally better once you leave me to finish my work in peace." To emphasize his point, Prowl punctuated the end of his sentence with another glare. It wasn't that he disliked seeing Jazz, quite the opposite, actually, but his lover's timing was absolutely horrid tonight. Or rather, this morning. In addition, he was really starting to make his processor protest from being overactive.

Jazz came around from leaning against the doorframe to the front of his desk. Prowl noticed that his visor flashed once. Short and bright. Jazz was annoyed. Prowl sighed. Primus help him, he could not deal with the saboteur now.

"Prowler, ya've been working for nearly an orn without fuelling as often as ya should be and running on even less recharge. Ya need to refuel if not recharge. Now. In fact, Ah demand that –"

Prowl sighed and cut in, though his voice didn't lose the cold edge. "You will demand nothing and leave. I will refuel as I see fit and I will recharge when I find time. Now if you please –"

Now Jazz cut in. "Prowl, that's scrap and ya know it. Primus knows that if ya were left to yer own devices, ya'd try to run on empty for orns on end with no recharge! There's always work to be done. So Ah demand that ya come with meh right now to get energon!"

Prowl stared across his desk at the silver minibot warily. Perhaps Jazz was correct. Working himself half dead would do the Autobot cause no good. Besides, he was in no hurry to receive another lecture from Ratchet and Optimus on taking proper care of himself. "Fine, I concede. We will go get energon right now, though as soon as I finish I will return to complete my tasks."

Jazz flashed a grin. "Gotcha. The work will still be here when ya get back anyway. Maybe." Jazz leaned across the desk, placing his faceplate in Prowl's personal space and an almost uncomfortable distance from Prowl's own, his voice taking a mischievous tone. "Or maybe not." He paused when Prowl took on displeased look. "Fine. Ah won't steal anything." Prowl stared harder. "Or hack anything." Pause. Glance. Jazz leaned back and threw up his hands. "Fine! Or even _attempt_ to find out whatever it is ya're keeping from meh until ya're ready to tell meh. Ah swear."

Jazz thought he heard grumblings and a funny noise of doubt from the tactician, but perhaps his audios were simply malfunctioning. Whatever the case, he was again soon distracted as Prowl rose from his seat. Deciding this was a perfect opportunity to appreciate the black and white frame, Jazz rocked back on his heels and simply _stared_. Prowl was a beautiful creature, after all. One would have to be blind to not recognize the outward beauty his lover simply _exuded_. Then, of course, there was the alluring intricacies of that fascinating processor that Jazz still failed to fully understand even after eons. Not to mention the … wow. Making a mental note to himself to never allow Prowl work so hard or so long ever again, he kept on staring even as his processor started wandering and his head began to fill with highly inappropriate images. He could feel his spark stir. Damn it! Now was so not the time to get all hot and bothered over a simple stretch. Though the very delectable being currently executing said stretch…

Prowl stood up, arching his backstrut and sighing in relief as the delicate interlocking plates that made up his spinal column realigned themselves once again. His doorwings also strained as far as they could go and fluttered twice, the sensors coming back online after a good stretch. Staying in a position that had him hunched over his desk all day and night was not the most comfortable, as his now aching backstrut testified. Pressing a fisted servo against his hip, he motioned towards the doors with his free hand.

"Shall we go?" Jazz answered his question by stepping out the door and waiting for Prowl in the dimly lit halls. Prowl followed, locking the doors behind him with one of his typically long and complex codes. When he turned back to the silver minibot, a ghost of a tired almost-there smile graced his mouthplates.

Jazz offered one of his own charming smiles – the one that did not say "I'm going to tear your spark out and make you eat it" or even "I just did something horrible and I'm proud of it". It was simply a smile, though it was one that looked rather… wanting. Prowl noticed this and the fact that despite the dark lighting, the gleam of the saboteur's silver armour seemed to stand out more, and his visor, of course, glowed a beautiful light blue. He looked absolutely handsome, though how Jazz managed such a thing at 5:17 in the morning, Prowl did not understand. However, he shook those thoughts when his lover said "To the rec. room we go."

With that, they walked the indefinitely empty halls in the silence of each other's company.

* * *

When they arrive at the predictably dark and empty rec. room, Prowl could feel his systems pick up eagerly and hear his virtually empty energon storage tanks sputtering (with this, Jazz casted Prowl's midsection an amused glance; the noise had been quite loud), as if they could sense that the prospect of getting energon was going to become very real very soon. With a cursory glance at Jazz, he ordered the lights at 50%. Teletrann-1, having immediately recognized his voice patterns as those belonging to Autobot Prowl, Second in Command and Commander of the Tactical division, instantly brightened the room accordingly. Prowl allowed himself an internal laugh. Holding a position such as his came with a plethora of responsibilities, but the power and clearance level that came with it was also quite enjoyable. Even a lesser commanding officer could not have ordered the lights on to a place such as the rec. room. As far as Prowl knew; only the Prime, himself, Jazz, Ratchet, and Elita One had that power. Primus knows what could happen if voice command was accessible to all the mechs on base. But even so, Prowl was unable to voice command all areas on the _Ark_; that privilege was reserved only for Optimus Prime.

"Lights at 70%." The room immediately brightened, and Prowl glanced sideways at Jazz, one optic ridge raised, his mouthplates turning downward in the beginning of a frown. Jazz had no idea how such an expression even managed to take place in the tactician's faceplates, but there it was. In the doorway of the newly brighter lit room, Jazz's smirk was clear as day. "What? We can't just stumble around in the dark. We'll only be a few minutes; Ah think the energon store can stand that much. Besides, it's not like we're low on that stuff."

"That does not entitle any bot the clearance to waste the limited supplies on base."

"Pfft. Limited pivoted. We have tons of energon on hand! 'Sides, Perceptor is working on that synthetic energon formula and Wheeljack is figuring out the sun energy energon harvester slash converter thing. Though who's to say how many will suffer from Wheeljack's experimental explosions…"

"'Limited pivoted' makes no sense in any way. Also, please do not remind me of Sideswipe."

"Sure it does! We aren't horribly limited on energon supplies and we don't have to pivot!"

"That does not register as the ramblings of a sane mech either –"

Though Jazz's visor hid his optics, Prowl could tell he was rolling his optics as he grabbed Prowl's arm and yanked him toward the energon dispensers, purposefully pretending obliviousness to Prowl's quiet protests of "Let me go!" and "I am perfectly capable of walking on my own!"

"Ya looked like ya were 'bout to topple onto meh, Prowler. Ah would love that, but Ah don't think ya'd find it funny."

With that, Jazz proceeded to snatch two energon cubes, tossing one to Prowl, who caught it just before it flew into his faceplates. Thus, Jazz earned himself another glare from the cranky SIC, which was promptly ignored as said minibot turned his head away in a ridiculously sparking like manner to stare as his energon cube filled up with glowing blue liquid. By the time Prowl's own cube was filled and he looked at Jazz once again, he felt extremely stupid and berated himself over not having kept an optic on the minibot, who now balanced three full energon cubes.

Without a word of warning, Jazz leaned over and shoved two of the three cubes into Prowl's subspace. It was normally considered extremely rude to access another mech's subspace pockets without permission or at all, but then again, this was _Jazz_.

Prowl watched as Jazz drew his hands back, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to smack the saboteur. He tried to fight it, really, but he was too tired for all this and so vowed to cease the internal argument at once. With his self control all but dissipated, Jazz suddenly found himself the recipient of a well executed hit that landed on his upper arm.

"Hey –"

"Please do not freely access my subspace pockets as if they were your own."

"What – fiiiiiiine. Ah was jus' trying ta help. Ah forgot ya get kinda testy when ya reach this point."

Prowl went on in the same flat tone. "I mean it, Jazz. Appreciation will be showered upon you should you abide by my request."

Jazz's visor suddenly flipped up, showing his blue optics suddenly brimming with mirth. "Appreciation in what form?" He couldn't tell if Prowl was making a joke or not; it was always hard to tell with the SIC and former Enforcer. There were times Prowl made a conscious effort, though albeit, they were quite rare, and then there were times when he was being funny or suggestive or something or other without meaning to. Like he was probably doing now. Unintentional dry humour that left Jazz trying to control himself before he committed something scandalous in a very public place. Not that _that_ would have stopped him – far from it – but he had a feeling Prowl wouldn't be too happy. Especially not in this mood.

"In the form of gratitude kept strictly on the emotional plane."

"Aw, yer no fun. Whatever. Come on, Ah want ta show ya somethin'. Ah don't think ya have seen anythin' like it."

With that, Prowl was once again dragged through the halls of the _Ark_ against his will (sort of). A part of him was slightly curious as to what Jazz could possibly be referring to, but his focus was on thanking Primus it was much too early for any other Autobot to be up. It would simply not be proper for them to witness such an event as the Second in Command being dragged through the base by the Third in Command. They would all immediately formulate completely improper thoughts and assumptions on what was happening, and gossip would spread faster than wildfire. For that reason, Prowl really hated the Autobot gossip mill. Personal reasons were a part of that too, of course, he himself having fallen victim to Sideswipe's gossiping tendencies far too many times, but Prowl knew better than to allow his yearning for vengeance get in the way of doling out proper punishments. That's what was expected of him anyway. Who's to say Sideswipe's miserable experiences in the brig and on monitor duty weren't all rightfully earned?

Without control of his arm, he could only attempt to stop the untouched energon from splashing down his chassis and onto the ground as he stumbled after the silver form in front of him that Prowl was entirely and fully convinced of possessing the power of Unicron.

* * *

Jazz led them through countless hallways from the rec. room to the communications center, past the living quarters, weapons room, past the bridge of the ship, and down the lifts. When they stepped off the lift, Jazz immediately steered them through the exit of the _Ark_ and into the west wing of the Earth base. They passed the medbay, which curiously, was still brightly lit. Prowl had wanted to investigate and reprimand someone, but Jazz pulled him away from the foreboding double doors and dragged him onward. Only when they reached the exit of the base did Prowl's battle computer finally pick up and realize their destination: outside, in the open. He was more depleted than he thought if he did not even have the strength to calculate possibilities of this strange situation. Shaking his head sharply, he followed Jazz outside, who still had a grip on his arm, as if he was afraid Prowl would run back to his office without a tether.

The first thing that hit him was the heat. As beings comprised of almost entirely metal, Cybertronians generally did not feel heat or coldness as acutely as organic creatures. But this, this was a feeling that Prowl's neuro-net immediately felt, his processor insisting on providing outrageous information about the current weather and temperature conditions at –

"Jazz, what is the current time?"

"6:02. Why d'ya need ta know?"

Ignoring Jazz's question, Prowl went back to his disbelief filled processor. At 6:02 in the morning, it was already this hot. It was still slightly dark out, but the air was already heavy and humid. Given the fact that their base was situated in a desert, it shouldn't have been all that strange, but still… this was almost unnatural. The dense air seeped into his armour, under it, and into his protoform. Primus, he could not recall having his frame react to the atmosphere on any planet quite like this before. He could feel the heat pressing down on his armour, and his neuro-net screamed "heat, heat, heat". It was almost unbearable, which was ridiculous, really. He was better than this. He would adjust in a short while. While he still puzzled over how in the world it was so warm, he snuck glances at the silver form beside him, who was currently trying to lead him further out into the desert.

Jazz didn't seem to be fazed by the heat in the slightest. Perhaps he was right. Prowl was now seriously considering spending that much more time outside of the cool, temperature regulated interior of the _Ark_. Optimus was constantly dropping subtle hints (more like indirect commands, to be honest) for Prowl to spend time with the Earthlings and the surrounding environment. He chose to interpret them in an entirely different way. Prowl knew Optimus was disappointed by the lack of involvement and response to those hints, but he couldn't be put at fault for misinterpretation, intentionally or not.

Prowl was jerked out of his thoughts when Jazz grew impatient with the snail's pace they were progressing forward at and tugged at his arm harder. Prowl resisted the urge to roll his optics in an immature move and simply told Jazz to calm down while attempting to ingest his energon. In the end, they settled on a slow, easy pace, Prowl following Jazz, who had let go of him.

They didn't talk. Prowl was absorbed in his thoughts, his battle computer coming back to life with vigour as his energy level slowly rising above the red warning marks and into the green as his main processor contemplated other things while simultaneously always observing his surroundings. Jazz stayed silent and let Prowl think.

They walked in silence for twenty minutes, enjoying each other's company. Silent communication through body language and glances were not either one's forte, but for now, it worked.

* * *

Prowl withdrew from his processor and shuttered his optics as Jazz once again grabbed his arm and led him away. This time, it was towards the large, shadow cloaked frame of the Prime who stood facing the rising sun. Prowl wondered briefly how he could have missed the progressing sunrise and Prime's presence, but those thoughts were soon dismissed as Optimus turned to greet them with a warm smile as they approached.

"Good morning Prowl, Jazz. It's good to see you. I hoped you both recharged well."

"Mornin', Prime. Ah recharged fine, but Ah think Prowler here –"

"I am perfectly fine, thank you."

"Good to hear." With that, Optimus turned back to the sunrise.

Prowl knew he hadn't fooled the Prime; that was nearly impossible. But he _was_ glad Prime hadn't inquired about his state. That would have been embarrassing, with or without the lies of recharge and refuelling.

Jazz turned to him, and said "Have ya ever seen a sunrise, Prowler? Cuz if ya haven't Ah think ya should make room in yer memory core for this. Maybe ya won't believe meh, but Ah'm telling ya, sunrises on Earth are gorgeous."

Prowl looked. He looked up from Jazz and saw the orange red streaked sky. Then after that, there was nothing, because his optics had caught the glint of the light of the sun and his vision had temporarily flared white and his optics spontaneously off-lined as a result. After a manual reboot, his optics came back online. Prowl gazed sideways at Jazz, who was staring into the distance, and drew in a sharp intake of air. The warm morning light created a glow around the silver form, highlighting his handsome features.

Without so much a twitch, Jazz said "Stop staring at meh, Prowler. I brought ya out here to take in the sunrise, not mah gorgeous frame."

"You are much too conceited for your own good."

Jazz flashed another grin. "Too _beautiful_ for mah own good, ya mean. Admit it, Ah'm the most attractive mech ya've ever –"

He suddenly cut off and tilted his head. A few astroseconds later, he was back and said "– seen in yer entire existence."

Prowl reached out to swipe at him in a moment of loss of control, but Jazz danced just out of reach, laughing all the while.

"Ah would love ta stay, but Ah gotta run, Prowler. Duty calls! Enjoy yer energon!" In a flurry of shifting silver parts, Jazz transformed and raced off back to base. Prowl could only stared after him in slight befuddlement, his processor still attempting to shake off the buzz of the energon and lack of recharge combined.

Feeling bemusement radiating from the Prime's field, Prowl turned back, a hint of embarrassment at having been caught staring at the retreating figure of Jazz colouring his own field.

Prime smiled down at him. The percentage of the time he wears his battlemask is dropping bit by bit, Prowl thought, attempting to ignore the exact percentage of 75.90% his battle computer immediately supplied him with. He was working on analyzing what he needed to, not everything he saw or noticed. It was working, albeit quite slowly. Prowl's battle computer only automatically calculated 97.42% of things now. Ah, that Pit-spawned computer of his. Before he could calculate the percentage of profanity he now used that he unwittingly picked up from Jazz, Prime inquired about something. Something Prowl didn't quite catch as he shook himself from a never-before-occurring bout of being lost in his thoughts.

As this had never happened before, Prowl didn't ask Prime to repeat his question. Prowl _never_ drifted off or lost focus, after all. Never being used in a somewhat flexible way.

"Well, the transfer of energon from the _Ark_ to the Earth base has been progressing rather well, and I have been informed that Ironhide has taken it upon himself to ensure that the base is well stocked with a large variety of weapons. According to Ratchet –"

A slight shake of the helm from Prime and a low chuckle stopped Prowl in the middle of his spiel. "Prowl, I was only asking after your health and mental condition. Have you seen Smokescreen recently? Perhaps he could help you adjust further."

Prowl's doorwings hiked up in indignation. "I am perfectly fine! Smokescreen deemed me fit for duty when I arrived here four human years ago."

"Ah, but that was four years ago. You are still working as if we are still at war."

"We _are_ still at war. There are still Decepticons wandering the universe, and though Megatron might have been extinguished, Starscream no doubt has gathered followers. _Peace_ will _not_ come until all Decepticons are eradicated."

"That may be, but the war is no longer raging. You should not be working so hard. I advise you to ease your workload only slightly, if that would make you more comfortable."

Though the Prime only "advised", Prowl still felt it carried a hint of a command. So being the walking rulebook that the Autobot population have dubbed him as, he stood down and bowed his helm gracefully to the Prime. "Yes sir. I will see to it that it is corrected immediately."

"Excellent. We will discuss the planning progress at a later time today if you wish. In a joor, perhaps?" At Prowl's nod of confirmation, Optimus nodded back. "I must take my leave now; Ratchet is hailing me. See you later, Prowl."

With that, the Prime transformed and drove off. Turning back to the sunrise, Prowl took a moment to appreciate Earth's natural beauty.

_Fascinating. In the thousands of vorns and out of all the planets we have visited, never have I come across something so natural yet stunning. Perhaps I ought to explore this tiny planet more._

Filing the moment away under an entirely new subject, Prowl lingered a few moments longer before transforming and driving back to base as well, the splash of colours streaking across the morning sky behind him.


End file.
